


Killing the Blues

by goddessmaat



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessmaat/pseuds/goddessmaat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Torchwood AU, it was intended to be longer but also works as a standalone fic I think</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killing the Blues

Ianto picked up his mug of coffee and walked through to his office. Hidden away at the back of his house it was larger than it appeared, housing a large drafting table, one wall was full of high spec computer equipment and another one was covered by floor to ceiling shelving weighed down with drawing equipment, computer manuals and files.

Switching on his computer he settled down to work. Ianto Jones loved his work, working for himself he combined old fashioned artwork with state of the art computer design and programming. Soon after he first started ten years ago he ended up turning work away, simply getting too many enquiries for his considerable talents he now picked and chose who he worked for.

Opening his email he smiled as he saw a message from Jake. They had been friends since childhood Jake was the polar opposite of Ianto. Loud, brash; straight, the redheaded journalist and the dark haired artist had been inseparable as children and still kept in constant touch as adults.

 __

 _His Lordship has told me that I MUST go to a ghastly charity function this evening. Lucy can’t come with me, you’ve GOT to come in her place._

 _I know you hate these things but PRETTY PLEASE._

 _Kisses, J_

Ianto picked up his phone and dialled.

“What’s it worth if I come this evening then?”

“Some of that horribly expensive coffee you seem to adore. Please Ianto.”

He smiled, and laughed.

“Not fair Jake. You know I’d do anything for that coffee. And to hear you plead too.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7, wear your DJ. You never know there may be some hot guys there.”

Ianto sighed,

“I’ll come, just don’t try to set me up ok, and email me what it’s about. You know I hate going in to social events blind.”

“Ok hotshot, see you later.”

Ianto grinned as Jake hung up, the other man was as energetic and hyperactive as always.

He buried himself in his work, breaking for a quick lunch, his day was taken up switching between computers and paper as always, quietly creating beautiful things.

It got to 6 in the evening, dark grey eyes flickered over his email Inbox before he logged off. There was a request he’d been expecting, one of his regular clients had phoned him earlier in the week to say that they had recommended him to the Director of an exclusive private school. They had asked that if possible he take on this job, because they had been extremely impressed with the work he’d done for their company. Ianto had assured them that he would be able to squeeze a new client in somewhere and had managed to keep his regular people happy.

He clicked the message open, scanning it quickly. It was a short outline of a request for a complete re-branding of the school. Sighing he closed his eyes briefly, this would not be a short job. He gave a final glance to the name at the end before he switched off. Jack Harkness, Director, Torchwood School.

Ianto laid out his DJ, immaculate white shirt and bowtie on the bed. Heading through to his bathroom he stripped and got in the shower. He loved showering and had indulged in a massive state of the art shower and cubicle when he had renovated his house. Jake had teased him mercilessly about the orgies he must have in it given the amount of space in it. He hadn’t laughed so much when he’d used it though, but still hadn’t managed to convince Lucy that they needed one.

Just as he finished putting on his bowtie, with a certainty and expertise that few people had, he heard the hoot of a car horn. He grabbed his key’s, wallet and phone and headed out to Jake’s car.

Ianto raised an eyebrow at the big grin on his friends face.

“I don’t know what that’s about,” he nodded at the grin, “you realise how much you owe me for this don’t you.”

“Oh yeah,” Jake laughed in reply as they tore through Cardiff, with total disregard to the speed regulations. Ianto sat quietly with a small smile on his face, log being used to the redhead’s hair-raising driving.

The parked at the hotel where the event was being held, Jake handed him the creams embossed invitation and they joined the throng of well dressed people heading inside.

A low murmur of conversation hit him, he picked up a drink and realised that he was separated from Jake already. He wasn’t entirely sure why his friend continued to invite his to these events in Lucy’s absence. They only ever met up at the meal and at the end of the evening.

He sighed and headed over to the seating plans to see whether he recognised who they were seated with. As he stood looking at it, someone bumped into his arm. Turning he was met with a shining white grin and an incredible pair of blue-grey eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the stranger drawled as he held out a hand, “Jack Harkness.”

Ianto started as he recognised the name. He blinked, in surprise, the man was gorgeous.

“Ianto Jones,” he said, softly but clearly, gently pushing past the American.

The evening passed slowly, as these events frequently did Ianto thought to himself. He was charming and witty and worked the room like a pro. Always the consummate businessman, he knew that much as he disliked having to network, it was useful. Knowledge was power after all.

He noticed everything, ever the observer, the one part of these things that he enjoyed was watching people. He saw the narrowed eyes of wives as they saw their husbands flirting, the disdain of the snobs as they were forced to speak with people they felt were below them. The happiness of the older ladies as they spoke to beautiful charming young people. And the shining blue eyes of Jack Harkness, which he felt following him throughout the event as he moved round the room.

People began leaving as it came to an end, Ianto waited in the foyer, eyes scanning the crowd for Jake. Suddenly his gaze was met with a cheeky grin and those shining eyes again, ‘Damn that man’ he thought to himself, still, he smiled charmingly and watching as Jack Harkness climbed into a shining black Ranger Rover.

“Hey Ianto,” Jake said, bouncing up to him. He laughed as he followed Ianto’s gaze, and whispered in his ear in a sing-song voice.

“You like him,”

“I don. . . . he’s interesting,” Ianto decided on. His mind caught up with what he’d said, and he mentally nodded to himself, yes, that was ok.

Jake grabbed his arm,

“Come on, let’s get you home, so you can have sweet dreams about the hunky American.”

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at his friend, but didn’t reply.

Turning to wave to Jake he opened his front door; closing it behind him he sighed, resting against the solid wood. Shutting his eyes he was unable to prevent his mind being filled with a vision of bright blue eyes and a cheeky smirk.

Not moving, he kept his eyes closed, and concentrating, flicked through the possibilities in his head; considering what he could, should, and wanted to do.

Heading decisively through to the kitchen he put on the coffee machine and then went and changed out of his dinner jacket, slipping on worn, soft jeans and a t shirt. He went and switched on his computer before retrieving the coffee, and deciding that he should probably take the whole pot with him if he was going to be up for a while.

Sitting down in front of the screen he quickly flicked into the email from Jack Harkness, which he had briefly looked at earlier that day.

It was clearly and succinctly written; he was interested in hiring Ianto to create a new website for his school and to design and cost a project to upgrade their entire computer system and network. If he was interested.

Ianto couldn’t help but smile to himself. Whoever had given his details to Captain Harkness had clearly made certain that he realised Ianto only took on work if he chose. The email left everything in Ianto’s hands, with only the final line; saying that Jack would like to hear from him in two weeks if he wasn’t interested so that he could make alternative arrangements, giving any sign of an ultimatum.

He followed the link to the school’s website, and bit back a grimace at the old, slow site. At least it wasn’t horribly ugly, just plain. Finding the information he wanted he sat back and read about the school, and its Head/Owner/Founder, Captain Jack Harkness.

Harkness set up the school ten years ago when realised that there were a group of young people, gifted, difficult children, often from dysfunctional families, who were being excluded from mainstream school. Some had been bullied, some were in trouble with the police, but all were very bright, sometimes too much so for their families, if they had them, to handle.

He set up the school with a great deal of his own money, and gathered a large number of funds and endowments and grants from other people and organisations all over the world. Ianto realised as he was reading, that Harkness was seriously connected.

He also hounded local authorities and the government for funds, saying that they had a responsibility to educate these children. The school was small and residential; there were only sixty children in it at any one time, ranging from 11 to 18 year olds, both boys and girls.

The children were accepted through interview only. Ianto smiled at that, he liked that there was no testing for them. Clearly Harkness knew what he was looking for.

He read through reports on the site of what people who had been students at the school had done since they left, and was amazed and impressed at their achievements and at the aim and ethos of the school.

Sitting back he realised that his coffee was cold, so he may be able to sleep, hopefully he would because he knew he had to think things over before making a final decision. He switched off the machine and took the coffee through to the kitchen pouring the contents of the pot and mug down the sink before rinsing them out and leaving them on the drainer. For a brief moment he considered drying them up, but tiredness overwhelmed his obsessiveness for once and he left them.

Having had a quick shower and brushing his teeth he climbed into bed, curling into his pillow for once sleep overwhelmed him easily. He dreamed of a crisp American accent, and beautiful blue eyes.


End file.
